


cosmic darkroom

by bellafarallones



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Enemies to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, astrobotanist duck, human with powers au, photojournalist indrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafarallones/pseuds/bellafarallones
Summary: Indrid, apparently, either had the universe’s worst luck or could not learn his lesson about the dangers of recklessness. As the day wore on, he came close to being eaten by a carnivorous plant, triggered two more violent spore explosions, and was almost crushed by a falling tree.After Indrid casually leaned on a tree trunk for no apparent reason and triggered a chain reaction of falling vegetation that had Duck ducking and covering, Duck grabbed him and hauled him up by the front of the shirt. “What is your deal!?"
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	cosmic darkroom

**Author's Note:**

> big big thanks to ThisWasInevitable for helping me figure out how to make this a thing!!

The five members of the crew sat around their ship’s dining-room table, making their final preparations to explore a new world. “So… which of us gets to take the first step?” said Stern.

Barclay looked up from calibrating his instruments. “If you care so much, probably you.”

“Can you step in and out sixty-eight times really fast so I can be sixty-ninth?” said Aubrey.

Duck sighed. You’d think that on their week’s voyage through space, they’d have learned to get along.

“Can I take a picture of the four of you?” a different voice cut in. Indrid was leaning way back in his chair with his feet up on the table, fiddling with something on his fancy camera. He’d been hired to document the voyage, and a black fedora perched jauntily on his pale hair. A white card reading SPACE PRESS was stuck in the hatband. 

“Sure!” said Aubrey. “How should we pose?”

“You’re perfect the way you are,” said Indrid, almost affectionately, and raised the camera to his eye. Duck shifted, tugging at his shirt in the hope that it would somehow fall flatteringly, but knowing in his heart it wouldn’t.

“Aren’t you going to be in the picture?” said Aubrey.

“Nope,” said Indrid simply, and the shutters clicked.

Duck had done some googling about his future shipmates before leaving home, and Indrid… didn’t pose for pictures. Which was a shame, Duck thought, given that Indrid was handsome enough to be on every magazine cover in America. The other mystery about Indrid - one of the other mysteries - was how he took pictures through red-tinted sunglasses, though that was perhaps a minor point in comparison. 

“Will you take a picture of me taking the first steps?” Stern inquired. 

Indrid shrugged. “Sure. Is everyone ready to go out?”

Duck was the last one off the ship. This planet was gorgeous, lush green vegetation, totally different from what he knew on earth. The trees looked prehistoric, somehow, like a cross between a fern and a palm tree. 

The sound of loud hacking coughs brought Duck back to reality. Indrid had stuck his nose into a huge purple cluster of spores, so heavy it made its stem droop. 

“Alright,” Indrid gasped, pointing at the offending plant, “nobody breathe in that pollen!” Then he collapsed onto the ground. Duck was on him in an instant, hauling him to his knees and slapping his back so he coughed up the purple dust. Not the most auspicious start for a mission that was supposed to last a month.

“What the hell?” Duck demanded. “You don’t just go around sticking your face in stuff! We don’t know what’s dangerous on this planet!”

“Well, now we know that’s dangerous,” Indrid said. 

Duck looked around at the rest of the group. Barclay was on the ground scraping up soil samples, Stern was looking through a pair of binoculars at the sky, and Aubrey was talking excitedly into a voice recorder. “Can you breathe?”

“Yep,” said Indrid, managing a weak thumbs-up. “Just peachy.”

Duck offered his hand, and pulled Indrid to his feet. 

“So, uh. What are you up to today?” said Indrid. 

“Gonna go and look at plants.”

“Mind if I join you?” Indrid held up the camera around his neck. “Get a couple shots of you at work?”

“Sure. I’ll see if I can keep you out of trouble.”

They set off together into the alien jungle. The first thing Duck noticed was how quiet this planet was: there were no animals as far as they knew, nothing macroscopic besides plants and fungus. So there were no birds singing in the trees, no rustle of leaves as animals moved through the underbrush, no insects chirping. Just the wind, and the alarming wheeze of Indrid’s labored breathing.

Indrid, apparently, either had the universe’s worst luck or could not learn his lesson about the dangers of recklessness. As the day wore on, he came close to being eaten by a carnivorous plant, triggered two more violent spore explosions, and was almost crushed by a falling tree. 

After Indrid casually leaned on a tree trunk for no apparent reason and triggered a chain reaction of falling vegetation that had Duck ducking and covering, Duck grabbed him and hauled him up by the front of the shirt. “What is your _deal?_ You need to be more careful! It’s not just about you! Your recklessness could get _me_ killed! Or anyone else in our group!”

Indrid’s eyes behind his glasses were wide and locked on Duck’s. “Uhh,” he said. “I’m not going to get hurt?”

“You haven’t been able to breathe properly all day.”

“I’m not going to get _badly_ hurt. And I’m not putting anyone else in danger, I promise.”

Duck shook his head. Clearly Indrid didn’t know the first thing about the wilderness, and alien planet was about as wild as wilderness could get. “That’s not how shit works.” Duck pushed Indrid away, turned on his heel, and stalked back in the direction of the ship without waiting to see if Indrid would follow.

\--

The next morning, while everyone else was eating breakfast, Indrid was sitting in bed with his weighted blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His was the top bunk above Duck’s, and the futures told him he had half an hour of privacy at least. 

The previous day had been the first time anyone had touched him beyond a casual brush in the street in… he couldn’t even remember how long. There hadn’t been many futures where Duck had gotten so upset, either, and so Indrid hadn’t been expecting it, expecting Duck’s fist against his sternum, a mostly-stranger yelling in his face for doing something dangerous.

Indrid looked up and met his own eye in the mirror hanging on the back of the closet door. _Wow, you’re fucked up,_ he thought to himself. 

He wanted Duck to touch him again. Yell at him again, even, if that was what it took. He closed his eyes, willed the weight of the blanket around his shoulders to be warm and human, and slipped a hand under the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Even an imagination as plastic as Indrid’s didn’t stretch so far as to fantasize about romance. He thought about Duck holding him down and _taking,_ or Indrid on his knees. Punishment for his recklessness, because as far as Duck knew he was right to hate Indrid, not knowing that he was always just a little bit ahead.

Putting himself in apparent danger served two important purposes. Firstly, the last second was the best second to get a picture staring down a plant monster’s gullet. Secondly, Indrid getting sick and hurt meant that the others wouldn’t have to. The poisonous spores, for instance. He’d had a vision of them being dangerous, but he couldn’t just _say_ that, so he needed to breathe them in himself so everyone else would know not to. 

He was _helping._

Maybe by the end of the month Duck would realize Indrid wasn’t putting anyone else in danger and stop hating him. Maybe.

\--

“Does anyone happen to have any handcuffs?” said Duck when they all sat down for lunch. 

Stern looked up. “I do, why?”

“Why do you have handcuffs on a spaceship?” said Barclay.

“For work!” said Stern defensively.

“Right, right,” said Barclay. “What’re you gonna be cuffing, Duck?”

“Me and Indrid.” Several pairs of eyebrows shot up, and Duck hurried to clarify. “He keeps getting into trouble! It’ll help me keep an eye on him.”

Indrid shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, confident as always. “This could be amusing.”

Duck had first suggested the handcuffs thing as a joke, but when Indrid hadn’t immediately shot it down he realized it actually made sense. It’d keep Indrid from running ahead and getting attacked by a plant. 

“I’ll go get the handcuffs,” said Stern, and stood up from the table.

Barclay leaned forwards and spoke in a low voice when Stern left the room. “Does he actually think he’s going to be arresting any of us while we’re here?”

“There’s four of us and only one of him,” said Aubrey cheerfully, “so if he tries to arrest anyone without good cause he’s got another thing coming.”

Stern came back with the handcuffs. They did look like real handcuffs, not pink and fuzzy or anything. 

“I consent to this on the condition that they’re not uncomfortable,” said Indrid.

“They’re not,” said Stern, and unlocked them. 

“Are you right-handed or left-handed?” said Indrid. 

“I’m a leftie,” said Duck.

“Good. Your right to my left, then.” Indrid held out his wrist. “So we both have our dominant hands free.”

Stern looked from one to the other. “You’re really doing this?”

Duck looked at Indrid. He wasn’t backing down. “Sure,” said Duck. “I want the key, though.”

The handcuffs clicked closed and Stern handed Duck the key, which he put in his pocket. Then Duck lowered his hand to his side, forcing Indrid to take two steps towards him. They stood shoulder to shoulder, fingertips almost brushing. Close enough that Duck could smell something vaguely fruity on Indrid’s hair. Fuck. 

Most of the afternoon went okay. Indrid needed both of his hands to take pictures, which meant that Duck’s hand was right next to his face, almost stroking his cheek, and when Duck used two hands to take plant samples Indrid was basically on top of him, but that wasn’t too bad. And Indrid didn’t have any close calls with death the whole time. 

What was bad, though, was when the sun was starting to set, and Indrid suddenly froze. “Duck?”

“Yeah?”

“Just, uh, checking. You still have the key to these handcuffs, right?”

Duck put his hand into his pocket, and his finger poked out again through a hole in the lining. “Oh, _no.”_

Indrid burst out laughing. 

Duck checked his other pocket, yanking Indrid’s hand along with him, but of course the key wasn’t there. He buried his face in his hands. “I forgot these were the pants where I put gardening shears in the pocket!”

“That sounds a little perilous,” said Indrid. 

“Yeah, yeah. Needless to say I’ve learned my lesson.” Duck looked around on the ground, but of course there was no key. It must have fallen out at some point during the afternoon, but they’d covered _miles._ “It’s not safe to stay out here after dark.” He couldn’t meet Indrid’s eye as he said it. 

“We’ll find it tomorrow,” said Indrid. “Maybe Stern has a spare key.” How was he so chill? Duck had expected to be yelled at. He also felt a little bad, now, for how upset he’d gotten at Indrid earlier. 

Stern turned out not to have a spare key, but to his credit, he was also the only one who didn’t laugh at Duck and Indrid’s predicament. 

“They’re like ‘we will get along’ handcuffs!” said Aubrey. “Are you sure a plant didn’t eat it?”

“I have a blowtorch if you want to melt the chain,” Barclay offered.

“No one is damaging my handcuffs unless it’s absolutely necessary!” said Stern. “Those things aren’t cheap.”

And so Duck resigned himself to spending the night with Indrid’s hand never more than four inches from his own. The bathroom on the ship was small enough that they could take turns standing outside with their arm pressed through the crack of the door, so that didn’t present _too_ much of a problem. They managed to change into pajama pants without sacrificing their modesty, as well, though there was no good way to get their shirts off. 

And when it was too late at night to deny the issue any further, they ended up standing side-by-side in front of the bunk bed they shared. “We are not getting up that ladder,” said Duck.

“Does that mean you’ll let me in your bed?” said Indrid, reaching over to put his hat down on the dresser.

“I don’t see that we have any other options.” Duck glowered up at Aubrey, sitting on her own bunk, who had started giggling.

“Do you usually sleep on your back or on your front?” said Indrid, now expertly removing and folding his glasses one-handed. 

“On my back.” Duck squinted, trying to visualize how this was going to work. “So it’d be easiest for me if you were… on the inside? If that’s alright with you?”

“Works for me,” said Indrid, and got into Duck’s bed. He curled up into himself with his back to the wall, taking up as little room as possible, and Duck lay down next to him, flat on his back. He knew he was taking up most of the space on the mattress - his body was too broad to do otherwise, not lithe like Indrid’s.

“Good?” said Indrid.

Duck took a deep breath. “Good as I think it’s gonna get.”

They lay there for a while, listening to Stern snoring and Aubrey tapping away on her laptop. “Indrid?” said Duck quietly.

“Hm?” Indrid didn’t open his eyes, and in the darkness Duck could just make out the curve of his eyelashes against his cheek. 

“Thank you for not being mad at me for losing the key.”

Now Indrid’s eyes opened, luminous, and he smiled sleepily. “Of course not. In the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing.”

And Duck turned his head away, because he could _not_ keep staring at Indrid’s face all night. 

At some point Duck must have managed to fall asleep, because when he woke up he was biting back a gasp. They’d gotten tangled, somehow, Indrid on top of him with his knee between Duck’s thighs and Duck could feel his own wetness, so wet he must have been humping Indrid in his sleep and oh, _that_ was humiliating. It was still dark, and he could feel Indrid’s soft, even breathing against his cheek: Indrid was still asleep, unaware. 

Duck very carefully edged Indrid off of him and curled up into himself, contorted so his back was to Indrid with his arm slung over his shoulder so as not to tug at Indrid’s wrist. His dream came back to him in fragments: it’d featured one of those plants astrobotanists joked about, one of the ones with tentacles and problems with aggression. And Indrid, who was for some reason naked except for his glasses and his stupid hat. And -

Duck squeezed his eyes shut and tried to put it out of his mind. They’d better find the keys to those fucking handcuffs soon.

-

When Indrid woke up, Duck was curled away from him, back rounded like a bear in hibernation. 

He probably should have objected more, to the handcuffs and the losing the key and all of it. His heart had done some elaborate gymnastics when he’d seen that Duck had dropped the key. It was bad, obviously, but a lost key also meant more of Duck’s fingers brushing his and Duck’s _bed,_ pillows that smelled like pine, and the warmth of a body so close. 

It didn’t matter now. Indrid took a few deep breaths and watched the futures clarify like bubbles of oil on a pot of soup. He saw himself and Duck walking through the forest, retracing their steps of the day before, and where they’d find the key, in the shade of a tall, alien tree. Good.

He realized Duck was looking at him, then, and raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess we’ve got a key to look for.” 

Duck looked away quickly. “Yep. We do.”

“So how did you sleep?” said Aubrey when they sat down to breakfast, still dressed in their pajamas. 

“I always sleep like a rock,” said Indrid. “So, fine.”

“Uh-huh,” said Duck, but there were dark bags under his eyes. 

Finding the key was not difficult, now that Indrid had seen which tree it was under. It was mostly a matter of trying to get Duck to the right spot as soon as possible without looking too bored with pretending to search along the way. Finally _finally_ it came within sight and Indrid dragged Duck along after him to the glimmer of metal on the ground. 

“Oh thank _fuck,”_ said Duck, and Indrid picked up the key and fitted it easily into the lock on his own cuff, and then Duck was free of him, and then he passed the key to Duck and let him free himself.

Duck crouched to put the handcuffs and key back into his backpack. “We’ll have to thank Stern for his generosity.” Then he looked up at Indrid. “I’m sorry about that.”

Indrid shrugged. “It’s fine. It did keep me out of trouble, after all.”

“I really, really wish you wouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, Indrid,” said Duck. 

Suddenly Indrid saw eyes, and his breath caught in his chest. Not Duck’s eyes, or the eyes of anyone else on the ship, but animal eyes, in the near future, and many sets of pounding hooves. “So,” Indrid said carefully. “What do you suppose all these carnivorous plants eat when we’re not around?”

Duck stopped walking. “Oh. There must be animals on this planet.”

No shit. And in three, two, one… the ground started shaking. 

“Indrid!” Duck yelled. “Up a tree, quick!”

Indrid saw Duck scrambling up into the nearest tree, and then in the future he saw himself scrambling up after him, Duck pulling him by the hand up to rest on the same branch, legs swinging off it, and they were so close, and Duck whispered “thank you for not doing something stupid,” and then leaned in and kissed him. Indrid, thirty seconds behind, froze dead in his tracks. Duck was kissing him. But that future was fading, now, no no _no -_

And then something like a freight train was slamming into Indrid’s side so hard he went flying into the air, and then he hit the ground, and everything went black. 

When he came to he was lying on the ground, rocks digging into his back, and Duck was kneeling next to him. “Oh thank god you’re awake,” said Duck. By some miracle Indrid’s glasses were still in place, still intact. The relief on Duck’s face hardened quickly into anger. “What the _fuck,_ Indrid? You could’ve been killed!”

Indrid was still trying to make sense of what he’d seen. “You… don’t… hate me? Or you do, but it’s in a sexy way?”

“What are you talking about? Fuck, I bet you’re concussed. Of course I don’t hate you.”

“What… happened?” Duck had hardly been able to stand looking at him just that morning.

“You got hit by a space moose. If you hadn’t been knocked out of the way you would have been trampled by a herd of about twenty of them.”

Indrid sat up. “My camera.”

He and Duck turned their heads at the same moment, and took in the scattered fragments of black plastic and glass. 

“Oh, no,” said Indrid, crawling over to it. “Oh, _no…”_ Here was a shard of lens, there half of the outer casing, destroyed. He plucked the SD card from the dirt: this, at least, seemed undamaged, and he clutched it to his chest. But his _camera…_ Indrid curled up into a little ball, his arms around his knees. And Duck was kneeling beside him. 

Indrid looked up at him through the tears in his eyes, and was about to start screaming, _this is your fault for distracting me, your fault for thinking about kissing me_ , but then Duck was hugging him and Indrid choked on his words. 

“I’m here,” Duck was saying, “you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re alright and that’s what matters.”

Indrid clung to him and cried. His _camera,_ his thousand-dollar camera that he’d protect with his life, his only way of making himself useful here a million light-years from home… 

“I -” he started when he could get words out in between the sobs. No point keeping secrets now. “I can see the future. I know - I know that’s unbelievable but I know when things are gonna happen and that’s how I normally get out of the way just in time, and when I see something’s dangerous like that stupid flower on the first day I make sure it gets me before it can hurt anyone else. But just now I - I got distracted.”

“Is anything else bad about to happen?”

Indrid blinked, scanned the futures. “No. We’re safe.”

Duck sagged with relief. “Thank you. Indrid, I’m so sorry.”

“You believe me?”

“Yeah, I do.” Duck found Indrid’s black fedora, pushed it back into shape, and put it gently back onto his head. “Do you think you can stand? We should probably get back to the ship.”

Indrid turned away from him, scooped up pieces of smashed camera. “Let me just pick all this up. Best not to litter.”

“A man after my own heart.” Duck got on his hands and knees as well, sorting through the dust. When all the pieces were safely in Indrid’s bag, Duck looked up and met his gaze. “And - if you know a plant’s dangerous you could just… tell me, and I’ll look at it, and explain to the others why they shouldn’t go near it.” 

Indrid had to laugh. “That would have been cleverer of me, wouldn’t it? And if I’m not doing anything dangerous, you’re not stuck keeping an eye on me.”

Duck stopped in his tracks. “Do you mind spending time with me?”

If he’d minded he wouldn’t have allowed them to be handcuffed together. “No.”

“I’m happy to hear it, because… I haven’t just been spending time with you because I’m worried you’re going to get hurt. I like the way you notice things, and I like watching you take pictures. I like talking to you.”

“Oh,” said Indrid, very quietly. “Thank you.” He looked up at Duck, met his mismatched gaze. “Does that mean we’re still on for tomorrow, then?”

“We’re on.”

True to Indrid’s prediction, they made it back to the ship without incident, and when they arrived Indrid put the pieces of his camera in the trash and stuck the SD card into his computer. When the photos loaded, Indrid breathed a sigh of relief. At least one thing was going his way. 

“Well, that’s good,” said Duck, standing at his shoulder. “Is there anything you can do without the camera?”

“I can draw, and that’s probably what I’ll end up doing, but I didn’t bring all my supplies with me.”

“I, uh. I brought a set of watercolors with me? If you want to use those?”

Indrid looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I thought I’d have more time to be doing that kind of thing than I actually have, and it seems like you could make good use of them.”

“Thank you.” Indrid tried to stand up, but the pain stopped him: his whole body seemed to ache from the blow he’d taken.

Duck’s brow furrowed with concern. “Oh, fuck, you’re hurt, that’s right… will you let me look at you?”

“I’m fine,” Indrid said, but allowed Duck to guide him over to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“Tell me where it hurts,” said Duck, sitting down next to him. “You hit your head, right?”

“No. Um. I think just my back and my side?”

“Will you take your shirt off so I can see?”

Indrid shrugged off his cardigan and pulled his tank top over his head. The chill of the room made goosebumps rise almost immediately on his arms, but Duck’s hands were comfortingly warm.

“Oh,” said Duck, “that looks like it hurts.” His fingertips brushed lightly over a bruise, and Indrid gasped from the sudden spike of pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said Duck, and pulled his hand away. “You don’t think there’s anything broken?”

“No, but maybe you’d better check?” said Indrid. He had his back to Duck, didn’t have to see his face.

“Of course,” said Duck, and suddenly Indrid was regretting letting Duck touch him, because if this went on much longer his body was going to react in a very embarrassing way. 

“Turn back around?” said Duck finally, and Indrid faced him again. “Looks like your front didn’t have it as bad. That’s good, at least.”

Indrid fidgeted with his shirt but did not put it back on. Duck was sitting so close, just a few breaths between them, and tilted his head obligingly when Indrid started to lean forward. Indrid looked into the future, just to check, just to be absolutely certain, and when all the futures ran together like rivers towards one blissful sea, he closed the rest of the distance and kissed him.

It wasn’t fireworks. No, kissing Duck was like the first languid moments of morning when the world is soft and your head is empty and you just want to stay in bed forever, and Indrid never wanted it to end. Eventually, though, he pulled back, away from the perfect warmth of Duck’s lips, and for a moment they just looked at each other. 

Indrid finally broke the silence. “There’s about to be -” and then a timer went off somewhere else in the ship and Duck leapt up.

“Fuck! My samples! I really need to, uh, I -” and he bent down, took Indrid’s face in his hands, and kissed him again, quickly, and then he was out the door and gone. 

Indrid flopped over onto his side and curled up into himself, pressing his fingers to his lips. That had just _happened._ Then he remembered he was on Duck’s bed, and the blanket smelled like Duck, and maybe if Duck kept touching him _he’d_ smell like Duck, and Indrid could imagine nothing better.

Duck was still shut up in the lab when the others returned, but Stern cheered when he saw Indrid sitting at the dining table alone with his sketchbook. “You found the key!” 

“Indeed we did,” said Indrid, and slid the handcuffs and key across the table. 

Stern sat down. “You don’t look very happy about it.”

“I’m happy about that.” _And about something else that I will not mention._ “I just also smashed my camera to bits.”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. Is that why you’re drawing?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve always respected traditional art,” said Stern contemplatively. “The artist is so much more _present_ with pencil and paper compared to photography. Like, of course the photographer still has a presence, in the choice of aperture and exposure and all the other stuff I’m sure I don’t even know about - this is really your field, of course - but there’s fewer filters between the actual world and what ends up represented. Sorry, am I boring you with this?”

“Not at all,” said Indrid, and managed a real smile. 

He didn’t get a chance to talk to Duck one-on-one, but dinner was pleasantly raucous, and afterwards Indrid found Barclay alone in the lab, doing something that involved soil samples and little labeled bottles of chemicals. 

He wouldn’t call Barclay a _friend,_ exactly, but they had known each other in high school, and that had fueled a certain kind of familiarity. Indrid knew what Barclay looked like when he was trying valiantly to grow a beard and not yet succeeding, and Barclay… well, high school for Indrid had not been a good time. 

“Is anything exciting enough to be worth drawing going to happen?” said Indrid.

“That depends both on the result of these experiments and what you consider to be worth drawing,” said Barclay, clearly still focused on his work. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes, then,” said Indrid, flipping open his sketchbook. They sat together in silence for a while, Indrid sketching the background of the lab and then the outlines of Barclay as he worked, his straight back and steady hands. 

“So how was it spending a day handcuffed to Duck Newton?” said Barclay after a while.

“It wasn’t a whole day. Twenty hours, maybe.”

“Keeping close track?” Barclay looked up from what he was doing and raised his eyebrows. Indrid held his tongue. “Look, it’s obvious he likes you.”

“I think he’s made it pretty clear he hates me,” said Indrid, but the conviction in his voice was gone.

Barclay had lowered his head to his task again, and spoke in between making notes. “He doesn’t like you putting yourself in danger. But it’s possible to separate how you feel about a person from how you feel about their actions. Hate the sin, love the sinner, and all that.”

Indrid started drawing bubbles an instant before they appeared in Barclay’s petri dish. 

“The soil near those plants with the poisonous spores is really acidic,” Barclay commented as he scribbled something down. “I’ll have to talk to Duck about that.” Then he looked up at Indrid. “Sometimes I think you see yourself as some tortured, unloved soul, when in reality, you get along fine with everyone on this ship. We’re your friends. Not to mention you’re good-looking, which never hurts.”

Indrid laughed. “You’d know all about how being good-looking makes your life easier, huh?”

Barclay snorted. “When I bend down enough for anyone to see what my face looks like.”

“How’s ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ going with your favorite government agent?”

Barclay rolled his eyes, and Indrid settled in for some really excellent gossip. “Don’t even get me _started_.”

\--

The next day, after the rest of the crew had left for their various experiments, Duck was in the ship’s tiny lab, scrutinizing xylem under a microscope, when he sensed someone standing at his shoulder. 

“Hm?” he said without looking up. Not that he was making good progress, anyway; everything just looked like green squiggles, the structures too alien to be recognizable. 

“We have the ship to ourselves for the next three hours.”

 _Now_ Duck looked away from the microscope. Indrid was smiling like he knew a secret, although in Duck’s book the most thrilling secret was that Duck had gotten to kiss him, and might be able to kiss him again if he played his cards right. “We did sorta get interrupted yesterday,” said Duck. 

“Mhm,” said Indrid, still smiling. “We could pick up where we left off, if you’re interested.”

“Let me finish this up and I’ll meet you in my bed?”

“Don’t be too long,” said Indrid, and stroked his fingers across Duck’s cheek. Duck turned his face up hopefully, but Indrid only kissed him on the cheek and then was gone. 

Duck turned the light on the microscope off, returned his sample to the fridge, and went through all the other lab cleanup procedures. Luckily he hadn’t been working with anything that fought back; that was occasionally an occupational hazard of astrobotany. 

He found Indrid stretched out on his bed, spinning his hat between his hands. “Hey,” Duck said, suddenly shy, but as soon as he got close enough Indrid threw the hat aside, pulled him down by the shirt, and kissed him, harder than the day before, and then they were off to the races, Duck straddling Indrid’s hips and combing his fingers through his hair and pressing him into the mattress. 

Something occurred to him, something that might be important to say if this was going to be more serious than an extraterrestrial hookup. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you before. About you almost getting hurt a bunch of times.”

“It’s alright.” Indrid flushed a very attractive shade of pink. “I, uh, a little bit get off on being manhandled, which made it much more enjoyable than it should have been.”

“Want me to manhandle you some more, then?” Duck pinned Indrid’s wrists above his head and watched him squirm. “Or I can be real sweet, to make it up to you?”

“Yesyesyes _please_ ,” said Indrid, and Duck released his hands, allowed Indrid to cling to him.

He lifted his hands gently to Indrid’s face. “Can I take these off?”

Indrid nodded, and Duck eased the glasses off, folded them, and leaned over Indrid to put them on the bedside table. He’d never seen Indrid in daylight without them before. “ _Fuck,_ you have beautiful eyes,” Duck said. “I think I need a moment to recover.”

“Don’t take too long,” Indrid teased, and kissed him again.

Indrid’s warm, wet mouth felt like making up for lost time, a balm for every time Indrid’s antics had made Duck’s blood pressure spike. Eventually Duck registered that he could feel Indrid hard against him. “My anatomy is not so demonstrative, but I am pretty turned on right now, and so if you want to do something besides make out…”

Indrid threw his head back and honest-to-God moaned. “Please fuck me.”

Duck took the opportunity to kiss his neck. “Take your clothes off so I can get my mouth on every inch of you?”

“Gladly,” said Indrid, and Duck sat back on his heels so Indrid could pull off his shirt. He paused midway through squirming out of his pants. “Aren’t you going to do the same?”

“I ain’t as much to look at as you are.”

“Oh, you sell yourself _very_ much short.” Indrid pulled his pants all the way off so he could more easily throw himself on top of Duck, petting his chest. “And I would _very_ much like to look at you.”

“Fucking flirt,” said Duck, but started unbuttoning his shirt. He did have somewhat nice pecs, he knew, but also lines of pink scar tissue and coarse chest hair, and he was far too soft _everywhere_. 

You wouldn’t know it by the way Indrid was looking at him, though. “See? You’re even better than I imagined.” 

“You imagined this?” Duck said as he kicked off his pants.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” There was that smile, again, and this time Duck lunged forward and kissed it off his face, pressed Indrid back into the pillows and slid down to lie between his legs. 

Indrid’s hands hovered above Duck’s head. “Can I -” 

“Pull my hair all you want,” said Duck. His scalp tingled pleasantly when Indrid’s neatly-trimmed nails dragged across it - hadn’t they been long enough the day before to click against his computer’s keyboard? Fuck, Indrid had planned ahead. 

Duck planted a kiss on the bone of Indrid’s ankle and then kissed up the inside of his leg, unhurried even as Indrid tugged his hair and whimpered. Finally he licked up the crease of Indrid’s thigh, and _oh,_ that was a lovely noise, turning to a disappointed whimper when Duck started kissing down the other thigh, passing over his cock, which was already hard and leaking. “I did say I was going to get my mouth on every inch of you,” Duck teased. “Besides, you look so good all needy like this.”

“That’s fine,” said Indrid breathily. ‘If you want to eat ass I’m gonna need twenty-four hours advance notice, but other than that…”

Duck laughed. “I was thinking about sucking you off.”

“Oh, that would be _excellent,”_ said Indrid, bucking his hips up into nothing. “As long as you - you actually get there at some point.”

“I will,” Duck promised. “You’re being so good, not touching yourself, letting me take care of you…” Finally he licked a stripe up the underside of Indrid’s cock, earning him a choked moan, and then took the tip into his mouth and sucked. He wasn’t all that confident about his ability to suck dick, being several years out of practice, but Indrid seemed to enjoy himself immensely. Too soon, he was tugging Duck’s head backwards.

“Duck, _Duck,_ I’m gonna -”

Duck hummed his acknowledgement and kept sucking, making a mental note to remember the little _nhh_ noise Indrid made when he came, because if there was a better sound on this planet or any other he hadn’t heard it. Then he swallowed and slowly pulled off.

“Fuck,” said Indrid breathlessly. “That was good.” He put his arms out and Duck lay down half on top of him, squirming a little when Indrid’s hand teased between his legs. “Do I get a turn between your legs, as well?”

“Can’t you see that with your fancy future vision?”

“I see that you have a few very interesting ideas.”

Duck’s mind supplied wilder fantasies, but Indrid was holding his hand, now, stroking across it with his thumb, and all Duck wanted was him. “I want you to eat me out. And your fingers inside me. Please.” 

“Yeah?” Indrid moved down the bed to kneel between Duck’s legs, stroking down Duck’s chest and stopping to squeeze his love handles. Duck would have been embarrassed if Indrid hadn’t been looking at him so admiringly, so open and affectionate. Then Indrid’s fingers brushed over his clit, making him jerk. “You’re so wet for me, I can’t believe you got me into your bed two nights ago and didn’t even do anything.”

Duck choked out a laugh. “I’m just lucky you’re a heavy sleeper. When we were handcuffed together I woke up in the middle of the night, um…” One of Indrid’s fingers was curled inside him now, and Duck could feel himself getting wetter for confessing. “I’m pretty sure I had a wet dream about you - ah!” Duck’s voice disintegrated as Indrid’s fingers started moving faster. 

“Oh, stop,” Indrid teased. “You’ll give me an ego.”

“Like you don’t already have one,” Duck grumbled.

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have had the confidence to make a move on someone like you,” said Indrid. He used his left hand to squeeze Duck’s ass and thigh. “With a body like this?” Duck just groaned and kept grinding on Indrid’s fingers. “But there are even better uses for my tongue than flattery, aren’t there?”

“Uh-huh, yep, please,” said Duck, and gasped when Indrid’s mouth connected with his clit. Indrid was gentle, letting Duck set the pace by grinding against his tongue, and that was just perfect, Duck’s hips stuttering as he chased his release, watching Indrid fall apart had turned him on like nobody’s business, and it didn’t take him long, Indrid licking him through it as he bit back his whimpers.

Indrid rested his cheek against Duck’s inner thigh for a moment, and then Duck tugged him back up to kiss him again, lightly, before Indrid flopped down against Duck’s chest. Indrid seemed to relish the physical contact, judging by the way he cuddled closer and pressed as much of himself against Duck as he could manage. 

“I’ll put clothes on,” said Indrid slowly. “But do you mind if the others come back and I’m still in your bed?”

It took Duck a moment to understand what Indrid was, obliquely, asking. Whether Duck was alright with the others knowing about them. Whatever _them_ was. “I don’t mind,” Duck said. “Stay as long as you like.”

**Author's Note:**

> ned and mama as mission control: hello? is anyone doing any science up there? no? just gay shit? ok then
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @bellafarallones!


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